Ted and Ronnie's Snooping Adventure

Ted Emails Ronnie WRight and Gets Snooped:

Hey, Mike Ronnie

Ed Snowden is the new Patrick Henry! And, hey, a lot more people than just you and me know that. Millions of people worldwide know that. It's the Second American Revolution where freedom and liberty mean nothing without the truth. You know who can't seem to understand or just respect that? Bad people. And most of the people we American citizens have entrusted with our grand North American Republic and its cherished heritage are nothing but a bunch of dark-souled bad-asses.

Funny, isn't it, how they think they can do whatever the fuck they damn well please like it was fucking FREE or something. Crimes against nature and humanity are never free. There's always a payback. Those stupid NSA fuckers are so afraid of terrorists that they think spying on ol' mom and pop at home and at work will solve their stupid paranoia problems when all they have to do is keep the fucking Arabs and Russians OUT of the United States! It's pretty fucking simple. And obviously clear. That's why nobody gets it.

Yep, the truth is right under their noses and everywhere else as well. And it always was. That's why you-know-who wrote Blind Fool Running and The Truth Is a Lone Assassin. And that's why 96 Snoop Dogs took it for free from Amazon's Kindle Store during you-know-who's 1-Day My Gift To You FREE Promotion (yes, really free) on June 10, 2013 and who then hid the knowledge they contained from the world and each other like a bunch of hateful little shitten scaredy cats who'd been caught with their dirty, lying, cheating pants down. These bottom feeders wouldn't shell out a measly $2.99 for the real McCoy (the bought and paid for ebook). But they'd have no problem spending a couple bills a week on pot, booze, porn or whores and not even bat an eye. Fuck them.

Y'know, I don't think the NSA gets our little joke about the calico cat and how Google reads our email even before the NSA does and uses keywords like "cat" to tack dumb-ass Purina cat chow ads onto our email messages. But who cares, huh? Fuck them, too. And, oh yeah, that shit about the queers and lesbians. Well, that's not bullshit. The world is being run by people who misuse everything that's natural and nothing is more unnatural than a homo snoop dog with a dark soul.

So, yeah, my calico cat is still dead but I wouldn't watch anything on the Hallmark Channel just so I could cleanse my dark-ass soul with a two-hour therapeutic crying jag. That's for those ball-busting bitches who like to show their feminine side to each other and then go right back to being hateful ball-busting bitches on daytime TV. Hell, I'd rather watch a news report on TV where praying mantis people from outer space just set Hollywood, Las Vegas, Benghazi and Minsk on fire with their minds and when all the perverted queers and lesbians and hateful camel jockeys and nasty Ivans and NSA homo snoop dogs came running up out of their basement hiding holes the same bad-ass space bugs melted the little fuckers from the feet up with a super microwave ray or something and when they finally died and their dark-ass souls died, too, they went, "REEEEEEEEEEEE!" Just like that liquid metal terminator at the end of Terminator 2. What a fucking pipe dream. But that would sure solve a lot of our planet's problems. Wouldn't it now?

Yours truly,

Ted

Ronnie WRight Replies to Ted and Gets Snooped:

Oh my god yes. Ain't it the truth.

Later, Mike Ronnie2 Ted

Ronnie 1
(So, am I Ronnie 1 or Ronnie 2 now? Christ, I can't remember all this secret spy shit. Are we done yet?)

Ted The Email Snoop Dog

They control the vertical. They control the horizontal. They control the bandwidth. So they say. But, hey, I might be a ticked-off old lub from Appalachia but I know how to reach out into cyberspace and grab some goodies myself. So I do.

You bet I did because everybody's doing it. So, yeah, check this goddamn shit out. I cyber-nabbed a really dumb-ass but potentially suspicious-looking email message and its subsequent reply the other day and I want to share it with the world because my snoop doggie dogshit might go fucking viral and then I could be rolling in dough.

At the very least, I might earn enough snoop money from Uncle Sam's taxpayers to buy myself what every male on this fucking planet seems to want: fancy clothes, fast cars, hotel rooms and whores. So, if you even think about claiming these two pirated emails as your own snoopy dog shit I'll find you and hit you in your thievin', fuckin' head. As you can clearly see, time (e.g. post dates and post times) means nothing because everything in the universe is actually taking place at the same time. Trust me.

So, yeah, check this shit out, will ya? Christ, ol' Snoop Dog Bama and all those Jon Voight and Jack Black types at the NSA must be shitting in their goddamn fucking pants with lyin'-ass-dog anticipation. The Big 9 TechShit Firms (AOL, Apple, Facebook, Google, Microsoft, PalTalk, Skype, Yahoo and YouTube) are all frantically denying any involvement in PRISM, just like the lying-ass snoop dogs they've always been.

Names and email addresses were withheld for security reasons. And if you believe that I'll tell you another one.

The originating email message:

Jesus, Mike, Ronnie it looks like ol' Jon Voight won! Those NSA cocksuckers (hi, guys) have been reading our email and going through our phone records like queer sailors on a three-day drunk. Fuck them, I say. You're the only person I ever send and receive email from and you're ME! Oh, Jesus, Frank Burns, do you think the principal SAW us?

Poor ol' Ed Snowden will be up to his ankles in his own piss and blood when the jack-booted thugs those NSA ass worms use against us U.S. citizens break down his hotel door in Hong Kong and whisk him off to Cairo. If you can believe anything a former CIA tekkie says.

Mike, Ronnie you can bet your sweet ass that the ol' NSA poop dogs will do their dirty work just like The Pennsylvania State Police troopers do their highway patrolling. They'll let all the really bad people go by them at a bazillion miles-per-hour, toting all kinds of bad shit between L.A. and New York (and back) and then they'll come down way too hard on ol' mom and pop dragging their tired asses home from work a mile over the speed limit in their rusty Chevy. 

Nothing ever changes on planet Earth because there is no god and never was and never will be. Just celestials, midwayers, those Illuminati shitheads in their Armani suits and seven billion fuckheads who only care about themselves. Why don't we fit it?

When you figure that out, you old geezer, drop me a line. Be sure to say hi to the NSA-ers. By the way, the calico cat died and I need Purina chow to look at for some boo-hoo Hallmark memories. Bye.

Best reagrds,

You

The reply:

Christ, Mike, Ronnie you know I don't know nothin'. But my guess is that we don't fit in down here because our link to the real powers-that-be goes way beyond Earth's stinking stratosphere. You know we're the spotters for King Karma here. Judgment day is just around the corner but we won't be here. I've got this little condo on Uranus if you're interested.

Christ in a can, I'd rather be anyplace else. Even on Uranus, where Nuns bowling for dollars and Senator Tossing is illegal but the hottest sport in town because of all the illegal sports betting. Oh, yeah, my calico cat died too and I had to watch Little House on the Prairie on Hallmark for two hours and not cry before I got over it. No Google Adsense pussycat ads this time around, either. I think they gave up on us. Say hi to those queers and lesbians who run things your way if you can get past their fucking stench.

Here's looking up your old address. Or, better yet, I'll just let ol' Google Puss hand it over to the NSA so they can all get free blowjobs from each other at the LAX Marriott in exchange for their highly popular bad-boy treason shit. Say, isn't that where that liberal-ass Hollywood turd Bob De Niro capped that fake-o, macho, haired-up homo hit man?

Bye,

You

Jesus, I wonder who these two jaspers are and why they think they're each other. Not to worry, though. Gene Hackman and Will Smith will straighten everything out for us and then we'll all be just as snug as a bunch of bugs in a rug. So we think.